


I Couldn't Find One More Beautiful

by frecklesarechocolate



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alcohol, DeanCasWeek13, First Kiss, M/M, Teacher Castiel, Teacher Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 18:34:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/726506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frecklesarechocolate/pseuds/frecklesarechocolate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is a high school teacher, and he's had a really bad day. The teacher he shares a classroom with - Castiel Milton - takes him out for a beer to help him get over his bad day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Couldn't Find One More Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [DeanCas Week](http://deancasweek.tumblr.com/post/45477050844/fic-i-couldnt-find-one-more-beautiful-au).

Dean’s first day of school was awful. He didn’t realize how bad traffic was going to be, and then there was nowhere to park. By the time he got in the building, the warning bell was ringing. He ran down the hallway to his classroom, bumping into three or four students along the way, apologizing over his shoulder.

He slid into the classroom a moment before the bell rang, and tossed his bag onto the desk. He’d made it just as the last of the students filed into the room.

From there, the day went further downhill. He mispronounced the names of about 25% of his students, realized that he hadn’t photocopied one page of the syllabus and he’d left his room keys at home.

He forgot that he had lunch duty.

And, at the end of the day, he managed to knock over a huge pile of papers from the desk of the teacher with whom he was sharing a classroom.

The other teacher struck Dean as being odd. Quiet and reserved, Castiel Milton had dark, disheveled hair and bright blue eyes that demanded the attention of his students. he was meticulously neat about his desk, and he was organized down to the last sheet of paper and staple. 

Dean, on the other hand, was messy, his desk covered in piles and piles of papers, binders strewn all over the place as he planned out his lessons, books for research open on every other surface that wasn’t otherwise covered by paper.

They were both considered excellent teachers: Castiel taught World Religions and Ancient World History, Dean taught Advanced Placement Psychology and Modern World History.

In many ways, they complemented each other.

It didn’t hurt that Dean was harboring a massive crush on Castiel Milton. In the short few weeks since Dean started working at Lawrence High School, Dean found himself staring at Cas more often than not. He found that he wanted to find out if Cas’s hair was as soft and thick as it looked. He wanted to know what Cas’s lips would feel like beneath his own, and oh, he wanted to know what Cas tasted like.

Thoughts most unbecoming a teacher.

They’d been cautiously friendly with each other, because they weren’t quite sure yet whether they had enough in common to truly be friends, or if it was more because of circumstance and proximity.

But Dean was certain that this, messing up Castiel’s carefully built pile of papers, this would end whatever tendrils of friendship they’d managed to extend between them. 

Lowering himself to the floor with an inward groan, Dean began to gather the papers together, hoping that he’d be able to recreate the order before Castiel returned. 

A hopeless gesture, really.

“What happened?” Cas’s low voice came from behind Dean. Dean lowered his head and closed his eyes. Yep, totally screwed that up.

Dean stood up, clutching a small pile of papers in his hand. “Sorry, Cas, I knocked over your papers. I was trying to pick them up before you got back. They’re all out of order, and…” Dean was babbling.

Cas gently plucked the papers from Dean’s hand and placed them on his desk. He began to pick up the other sheets, and Dean joined him. They worked in silence until all the papers were up off the floor, and then Cas leaned against his desk to put the papers back in order. He smiled at Dean. “It’s all right, really.” He tilted his head. “You’ve had a bad day today.” It was a statement of fact rather than a question.

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Not my finest set of first impressions.” He scrubbed the back of his neck, feeling the knot of tension that had been there since he was stuck in the morning traffic.

“Would you like to grab a beer when we’re done here? You look like you could use a friendly face.”

Dean grinned, relieved that Cas didn’t seem to be holding a grudge. “That would be great, yeah. What can I do to help you…” he waved his hand at the spread of papers on the desk.

“Oh, I think you’ve done enough. It won’t take me long.” Cas smiled, lessening the sting of his remark, and returned his attention to the papers. 

Dean tried not to be distracted by Cas’s graceful fingers shuffling through the papers, or the way that his white dress shirt pulled slightly across his shoulders. Yeah, good luck with that one, Winchester, Dean thought to himself. He slunk back to his desk and tried to do some tidying of his own. 

After a few silent moments where the only sound in the room was the slide and shuffle of paper against paper, Cas finally announced that order had been restored. “Come on, let’s go get you that beer.” Dean grinned and shut down his computer.

They found a good place a few blocks away, close enough to school that they could walk back to school, but far enough away that they wouldn’t be immediately associated with the school.

They sat and talked for hours, each having two beers, laughing about their various teaching war stories, and the array of terrible administrators and principals they’d had to deal with. Dean told Cas about Sam, his not-so-little-anymore brother who was in law school - law school! - at Stanford and was going to be a hot-shot attorney one day. Cas told Dean about his sister Anna who was a dancer with the American Ballet Company. Both brothers swelled with enormous pride as they spoke lovingly about their siblings.

Dean thought that he caught Cas staring at him on several occasions, and Dean did his best to avoid getting caught in his own staring (he wasn’t very good at hiding it, though, Cas knew about Dean’s crush just about since the day it started). 

During a lull in their conversation, Dean looked up to find that Cas was indeed staring at him, only this time, Cas didn’t look away. Dean cleared his throat and willed his eyes not to flicker down to Cas’s lips, which were now faintly wet from the frosted glass of beer Cas had been drinking from. Dean’s eyes, traitors that they were, ignored him. Cas caught the look, and he smirked. He shifted slightly in his seat and slid his fingers slowly down the beer mug. 

Dean’s breath caught in his throat as he watched Cas’s fingers with rapt attention. There was no way that this could be innocent, no way that this could be misinterpreted.

Finally, Cas leaned forward and spoke softly enough that Dean had to bend over the table to hear what he was saying.

“Would you like to have dinner with me?”

Dean nodded slowly, his mouth too dry for a coherent response. Cas grinned and pulled out his wallet, throwing a couple of twenties on the table to cover their tab. “Come on,” he said, grabbing Dean’s hand. 

Cas pulled Dean out into the street and began walking away from the bar, away from the school. When they turned the next corner, Cas stopped suddenly and pushed his way into Dean’s personal space. He stared at Dean for a long moment before pressing his lips to Dean’s. 

As first kisses go, it wasn’t the greatest, no singing of birds or swell of violins, but it was nice - damn nice - and Cas’s lips were warm and slightly parted against Dean’s. It was more like a promise, and it was over before Dean could really register what had happened.

He gaped at Cas for a long moment before he was able to stammer out, “Wh- What was that for?”

Cas laughed then, a soft, dry thing. “If you have to ask, I must have done it wrong.”

Dean blinked, and then he kissed Cas this time, bumping their noses together slightly before bringing their lips together. He cupped his palm to Cas’s cheek and ran his thumb along Cas’s jawline, the whorls of his thumbprint catching slightly on Cas’s stubble. “We shouldn’t,” Dean murmured after a moment.

“Why not?” Cas said back quietly.

“We work together,” Dean said, leaning his forehead against Cas’s.

“Hmm,” Cas said as he pressed another kiss to the corner of Dean’s mouth. “I think I would prefer to give this a try instead of dealing with the alternative.”

Dean pulled away to look at Cas. “The alternative being…?”

“A year of sexual tension that will erupt at what will most likely be the worst possible time.” Cas shrugged lightly. “But we could try it your way.” Cas sounded skeptical, and the more that Dean stood there, Cas’s arms around his waist, the less pertinent he found his own objections.

It was almost as if Cas could sense that Dean was wavering. He gave Dean’s hip a squeeze and then pressed his entire body forward so that they were standing chest-to-chest and hip-to-hip. They slotted together like puzzle pieces and Dean no longer remembered what he had been worried about. Everything was Cas. Cas mouthed softly at Dean’s chin, nipping at it as if he couldn’t get enough. Dean groaned and swept his hands up into the mess of hair that he’d been wanting to feel for weeks. 

“Okay,” Dean said. “Okay, we’ll try it your way.”

Cas grinned. “I thought so. Come on. I promised you dinner.”

Dean couldn’t help the pout or the soft whine that escaped him at the loss of Cas’s warmth. “And then more kisses?”

Cas stopped and kissed Dean again. “Lots more kisses.”

It was a fantastic end to the day.


End file.
